What If?
by Jalee
Summary: One-shot. Yaoi. 3x2. 1x5. Some noncon mentioned. Morbid. Duo ponders things and three different outcomes are shown. Trigger Challenge 1.


**What If?**

Trigger Challenge #1: "To the pain."

Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me ¡V never have, never will.

Warnings: Somewhat... disturbing. Heh. Blood, anyone?

. . .

Scenario #1

Duo was staring at his swinging feet as if he was staring at his reflection in the water; but he wasn't, and he knew he wasn't, but he kept on staring anyway. He was sitting in a relaxed position, as if Trowa wasn't sitting beside him; but he was, and Duo knew that he was, but he pretended that he wasn't anyway. Trowa was strumming at his guitar as if he was bored; but he wasn't, and Duo knew that as well, like he knew everything else.  
  
Duo decided that he knew too much. He knew why two male voices were always making sounds at the dead of the night; he knew that one was Wufei and that the other was Heero. He knew why Wufei never brought girlfriends home and why Heero could never stop looking at Wufei. He knew what the two do when they go upstairs to "do stuff," and he knew that Peter and Helen wouldn't mind. He knew, however, that Wufei was too afraid to tell.  
  
He knew that his parents hadn't died in a car accident. He knew that Dr. Po had meant well, but he knew that she had lied. She didn't know that he knew, though, and that's the way it should stay. He knew that the reason he hadn't been allowed to see his parents for the last time was because their faces had been hacked out by a maniac. He knew that they suffered a lot of pain before they died; he knew that they died together, with nobody holding them to tell them it was okay. But it wasn't okay, and he knew that too.  
  
Duo knew that the senior students who keep on following him didn't have good intentions, so he knew he had to avoid them. He knew that the gang leader, Gerald, was a pervert who liked to watch people get hurt. He knew that Gerald's father had sexually abused him when he was young, and that was why he was the way he was now. He knew that Gerald used to put pets on fire just to watch them howl in pain. He knew that he'd be in pain if he let Gerald catch him.  
  
Duo knew a lot of things - like how he knew that Trowa woke up everyday at 6 o'clock to fix his hair, or like how he knew that Trowa liked sitting with one leg folded under him, like he was doing now. He also knew that Trowa was slightly deaf in one ear, because his father used to beat him up. He also knew that Trowa's dad's death had nothing to do with the drugs he'd been taking. He just knew.  
  
So, right now, Duo knew that he had to tell. He knew what the outcome would be, but he knew that, if he kept it in any longer, he'd die. So, he told.  
  
"I'm in love with you."  
  
Duo knew from the lack of noise that Trowa had just frozen on the spot. He also knew that the long silence that stretched out between them wasn't a good thing. He knew that he didn't have to look at Trowa to know his reaction. Duo knew.  
  
So, he ran.  
  
For the first time in his life, Duo didn't know where he was going. For once, he didn't know how long he ran. He didn't know how he could ever face Trowa now - how he could face anyone, rather. He didn't know how he could go on as if he hadn't said what he'd said. He didn't know if it was all worth it in the end. All he knew was the pain in his chest and the stinging sensation in his eyes.  
  
But he knew ¡V when he saw blinding light and heard the wildly honking horn ¡V that that was the end.

. . .

Scenario #2

Duo was staring at his swinging feet as if he was staring at his reflection in the water; but he wasn't, and he knew he wasn't, but he kept on staring anyway. He was sitting in a relaxed position, as if Trowa wasn't sitting beside him; but he was, and Duo knew that he was, but he pretended that he wasn't anyway. Trowa was strumming at his guitar as if he was bored; but he wasn't, and Duo knew that as well, though he didn't really care.  
  
Duo wondered sometimes what those dreams at during the nights meant. He also wondered why Trowa was swinging his feet to his rhythm. Duo didn't really care, however, so he kept on swinging his feet. He didn't care about the dreams either, so he didn't bother with thinking about them too much. Thinking was boring, anyway.  
  
However, this thought reminded him of how bored he was, in fact, and he started thinking again. He wondered what he'd brought in his back pack, but it was too far away, and he didn't want to stand up to get it. He wondered what show was on TV at that moment, but it didn't matter anyway, since he was nowhere near home. He wondered song Trowa was playing, because he thought he knew that song, but didn't ask because he knew he'll remember soon. He wondered whether Trowa ever had trouble playing the guitar, but he never had had trouble doing it, so Duo dismissed the thought. Then, Duo wondered if Trowa was bored, because he certainly was.  
  
A thought came to his head. It was a flicker of a thought, and was probably unimportant, but Duo held onto it because he had nothing else to think about. It lay there in his mind, twitching once or twice to announce its presence, until Duo finally decided to rouse himself to lay it to rest. He wondered if his English teacher would find this personification funny, but it didn't really matter.  
  
"I'm in love with you." His stomach rumbled, and he wondered if he had enough change to get something to do.  
  
"Well, that's not good," Trowa replied nonchalantly, shifting his guitar higher.  
  
Duo shrugged and wondered if it was a good thing. He supposed that he'd always felt this way about Trowa, but it didn't matter really. He was really bored - wasn't there anything to do?  
  
"I'm bored," Duo stated distractedly. "Let's do something." He tilted his head towards to the other, who merely shrugged.  
  
"What do you have in mind?" Trowa turned slightly.  
  
Duo had a lot of things in his mind, of course. All those little thoughts came to him briefly, and he thought that he must have thought about everything by now. He'd thought about those dreams he had, the way Trowa swung his feet, the boredom he felt, his empty back pack, the shows on TV, the songs Trowa played, and the feelings he felt. They were unimportant, so Duo didn't think that he should repeat everything he'd thought about. Besides, it would take too long. So, he didn't say anything and just kept on swinging and looking at his feet.  
  
Duo turned to Trowa, wondering if he'd ever seen both of Trowa's eyes at the same time. He decided that those eyes looked nice. He wondered if Trowa deliberately hid one of his eyes all the time. He wondered what they looked like up close - whether or not they still look as dark. He wondered if the skin on his cheeks felt as silky as it looked.  
  
"I want to kiss you," Duo said suddenly, turning his full attention on Trowa.  
  
Trowa tilted his head towards Duo and stopped strumming. He shrugged and placed his guitar on the stone wall, then gestured to Duo with a finger.  
  
"Come here."  
  
Their mouths met. Duo turned his eyes upward and saw both of Trowa's dark green eyes looking back at him. He reached up and held one side of Trowa's face; it was as smooth as water. Duo finally closed his eyes and reached behind Trowa's head, satisfied.  
  
Their parting was slow and reluctant. Breathing heavily, Duo pressed his forehead against Trowa's and looked up. He wondered if his eyes were as clouded as Trowa's. They sat there for a while, their touches lingering on each other's bodies. Duo wondered distantly if this would happen again.  
  
Duo watched through unreadable eyes as Trowa pulled away; he wondered if Trowa was leaving now. Trowa jumped off the stone wall and slung his guitar over his shoulder. He held out a hand and tilted his head towards Duo. Duo took it and smiled.  
  
He didn't have to wonder anymore.

. . .

Scenario #3

Duo was staring at his swinging feet as if he was staring at his reflection in the water; but he wasn't, and he knew he wasn't, but he kept on staring anyway. He was sitting in a relaxed position, as if Trowa wasn't sitting beside him; but he was, and Duo knew that he was, but he pretended that he wasn't anyway. Trowa was strumming at his guitar as if he was bored; but he wasn't, and Duo knew that as well, and he realized that it annoyed him to hell.  
  
Duo swung his feet harder, hitting them violently against the stone wall. He hated the way that Trowa would just sit there, strumming his guitar to an unknown tune. He hated that this had happened every single day for the past year, just like an undying pattern. It was so annoying! And yet, he didn't know why he put up with this. He hated the silence - the false peacefulness; they never do anything else then just sit there.  
  
Duo grinded his molars together and lowered himself to hunch over his knees. He hated it - the monotony of his life. He hated how he had to go to school for five days a week and sit there for 6 hours a day in classes that he didn't even want to go to. He hated the way that he would come here and sit with Trowa for three hours for no reason at all. He despised the fact that he had to sprint for twenty minutes to get home just because a bunch of perverts liked chasing him. He especially loathed how he had to come home to face "parents" that he knew didn't like him. Nobody liked him. He could see it in their eyes when they glanced over him - weirdo, delinquent, loser, idiot, whore, faggot. He knew what they thought and he hated it!  
  
Did he ask for his screwed-up parents to go out drinking and to get themselves killed? No, he didn't. So why the fuck did he have to be punished for what those fucknuts' did? He hated that he'd been shuffled around, foster parents after foster parents. The only reason that Peter and Helen kept him now was probably for the cash. Fuck it.  
  
Did he ask to be a fucking gay? No, he didn't. Yet, he was. It was all his parents' fault; they probably had some fucked up genes in them. Was it his fault that he got fucking hard staring at guys? No. Yet, he got punished for that too. He hated that everyone knew and looked down at him because of it. He hated how that gang led by Gerald always fucking chased him just so they could fucking screw with his mind. He hated it!  
  
Duo tilted his head to look at Trowa. He hated him. He hated the fact that Trowa was his so-called best friend, and the guy that he got hard looking at. Why Trowa? Why him out of all people? Duo hated that guy; he was so fucking cold. It's not as if he was important to Duo, though; he was just fucking horny.  
  
Turning his head to the side, he watched quietly as Trowa continued strumming chords. Duo growled deep in his throat; he hated the way Trowa kept playing the same damn thing over and over again!  
  
"Stop it," he snapped suddenly.  
  
Trowa glanced at him briefly before ignoring him.  
  
Duo growled and reached out to pull the guitar away.  
  
"Stop fucking playing that," he nearly snarled.  
  
Trowa smacked his hand away and glared at him. Duo hated how those eyes could pierce right through him.  
  
"Don't tell me what to do," Trowa replied coldly.  
  
Duo narrowed his eyes; who the fuck did this little bastard think he was, telling him what to do? Before he could think about it too much, he leaned over and shoved Trowa violently. Trowa's eyes widened as he lost his balance, reaching out and pulling Duo with him.  
  
Duo cursed as he landed heavily on Trowa's chest. He shook his head - what the fuck was happening? Before he could pull away though, Trowa grabbed his shirt and flipped him over.  
  
"Don't fucking touch me," Trowa hissed, grabbing Duo's throat. Duo wanted to reach up and smack that head - hard. He hated how Trowa had him pinned to the ground, unable to do anything. He hated how Trowa was sitting on top of him, cutting off his breath. He especially hated the way his cock was reacting to the contact.  
  
"I swear to God," Duo hissed back, "if you don't fucking get off me now, I will fucking hurt you."  
  
Trowa's lips pulled back in a snarl, and he leaned closer, staring at Duo's face with narrowed eyes. Swearing loudly, Duo pulled his arm up and caught the side of Trowa's face. He hated the pained sound that Trowa made as he snapped backwards. He despised how weak Trowa was when he fought. He loathed how Trowa flinched as Duo delivered to him a 3rd blow.  
  
Duo hated how Trowa couldn't meet his eyes as he straddled his chest, pinning his arms above him. He hated how Trowa wouldn't even acknowledge him despite the grip he had on the other guy's chin.  
  
"When I tell you something," Duo growled, "you better fucking listen to me, because I'm not joking when I say I will fucking hurt you." He yanked on Trowa's chin and, finally, the other looked at him. "You will not ignore me."  
  
With that, Duo crushed his lips to Trowa's, tasting blood on his tongue. He hated the way Trowa had been looking at him, as if hurt. He hated the way he could affect him.  
  
"I can't trust you anymore," Trowa said when he pulled back. And he hated that too; he hated the hurt he saw in Trowa's eyes.  
  
As the weeks passed by, Duo hated everything even more and more. He hated the fact that Trowa didn't turn away anymore when Duo approach him, and that the sounds he made during sex weren't from pain anymore. He despised how Trowa had actually stopped hating him and started looking at him with different, albeit guarded, eyes. He especially hated how he couldn't make himself stop.  
  
But by then, he knew. Fuck it - Trowa was his! If Trowa ever dared running away from him, he would fucking hunt him down. Even after Trowa became scared of him, Duo wouldn't let him go, because Duo owned him; he fucking owned him and he knew it.  
  
So when he got home that one day, after running half an hour from Gerald, he was angry when he heard the distinctive sounds. He was so fucking angry that his hands turned blue, and his teeth started aching. His heart pounded its way to his head, and he saw blood. He mechanically moved to the living room, hating the way he could hear everything - every single damn thing. He knew he was able to explode; he could feel it cumulating in him, and he didn't fucking care.  
  
He saw Wufei sitting on the couch with his hands in his lap. He had his head down, but Duo could tell that the other was about to explode too. He was about to burst like a fucking balloon, and, by then, there'd be no turning back for either of them.  
  
'Let's explode,' he thought. 'Let's all fucking let go.'  
  
"Wufei," he stated.  
  
Wufei looked up, and - fuck - he was about to explode too. He was about to fucking die.  
  
"Let's do it," Duo said, a sickly grin curling around his mouth. "Let's fucking do it."  
  
Because those fucking traitors deserved it; those mother-fuckers deserved everything they got.  
  
So when Trowa screamed his name as he stalked towards him with the kitchen knife, Duo didn't fucking flinch. He saw the figure in front of him, and he felt the knife in his hand, and he knew he was going to fucking do it. And when he saw the pain in Trowa's eyes as he brought him down, he didn't fucking react to that either. He fucking deserved it; he so fucking deserved it.  
  
So that night, it was just Duo and Wufei alone in the house. For the first time, Duo didn't feel anything as he sat there on the couch. For the first time, he didn't feel his blood pounding through his body, up through his brain, and down to tingle in his toes. He didn't feel anything; he felt dead.  
  
As he handed the cup of red liquid to Wufei, he realized that his blood was still pounding. It was pounding in his heart, squeezing in and out again. It hadn't stopped. He realized what it was this time: pain.  
  
Grinning sickly, Duo raised his cup and looked to Wufei, who bore a similar expression.  
  
"A toast," he declared, feeling nothing - absolutely nothing. "To the pain."

. . .


End file.
